Burn It Up(24)

She took a sip.

“It’s gonna be okay, in the end. It’s the uncertainty and the waiting that sucks, is all.”

“No kidding.”

There was a silence, and they focused on their coffees until the suspense became unbearable. She looked at him pointedly.

“What?”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Were you expecting something else?”

She looked to the mug cupped in her palms. “I sort of assumed you wanted to talk about what happened. Between you and me.”

“Oh.” A canyon-deep pause. “I hadn’t planned on it. We could, though, if you want.”

Jeez, did she? “I dunno.” She wanted to know how he felt about it—she knew that much. Wanted to hear that it had meant something, anything, to him, even as she was afraid to admit the same.

“I mean, we talked some already, after it happened,” Casey said. He was acting blasé, like it hadn’t mattered, but whether that was because he regretted it or because he assumed she did, Abilene couldn’t guess. What she really wanted to hear was that it had meant something. Anything at all, even if it could never go anywhere.

Abilene wasn’t brave at the best of times, and with all the worries now rushing through her head, she had no courage to speak of. “Yeah, I guess we talked plenty already,” she agreed. “I mean, it was just a thing that happened.”

But something in her expression must have shown how much she hurt just now. He reached across the table again and touched her wrist. “It was real nice, though. It was a real nice thing that happened.”

Her heart buoyed at that. She flipped her hand over, clasped his in return. “You think?”

Another nod. “Not something we can keep doing, but I don’t regret it. Not unless you do.”

She shook her head. It was weird, talking to a guy this way. Openly, about sex or anything else. She wasn’t like Kim or Raina—women with no issues sharing their opinions and feelings with a man, talking with one like they were equals. Abilene had never been the equal of any of the men she’d been with, or hadn’t felt like she was. She did what voiceless women did—she manipulated. Through sex or tears, she could coerce a guy into not being angry with her, or into lending her money, into just about anything. It wasn’t good, but she’d gotten good at it. Way better at it than speaking her mind and articulating her needs. She’d gone unheard her entire life, after all. The concept was foreign.

What would she say, if she could get her mouth to speak the absolute truth?

I do want that to happen again. And again, and again, until my body’s ready for more, and then I want to do a hundred other things with you. And to hell with his past, and all her vows to quit falling for criminals. Her life was teeming with uncertainty and worry just now, the temptation to escape into good feelings all the more seductive. To hell with everything that didn’t feel half as wonderful as that kiss had.

But wants weren’t needs, and what she needed was exactly the opposite of all these reckless, selfish desires. She needed stability and security, for herself just as much as for her daughter. Another encounter with Casey offered none of that. Offered nothing except excitement and a fleeting imitation of comfort, and desires like those had brought her nothing but ruin, again and again.

“The flesh is weak,” whispered a voice from her past. “The flesh is weak so the resolve must be steadfast. To give in to our animal natures is to turn our backs on the Lord, to trade our very souls for a taste of the Devil’s wares. And those wares do not nourish; no, they do not. The wants of the flesh lead us only to poison.”

It was all such bullshit—every fear-mongering, sex-shaming word she’d been fed, growing up.

Except was it, really, when her past mistakes really had poisoned her life?

It has to be bullshit. If Mercy came out of one of those mistakes, there’s no way it can be true.

Unless Abilene lost her, somehow. Unless that was the real punishment she’d earned herself—

“Hey,” Casey said, leaning in, catching her eye. “You all right?”

She blinked, escaping her thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“No doubt. But you don’t need to worry about what happened between us, okay? You can set that one aside. We had a moment, it was a little f*cked, but also nice, and that’s all it has to be. Okay?”

“Okay.” Abilene swallowed, forced herself to believe that he was right, that it had been nothing more than a little effed but also nice. He made it sound so easy to set aside.

“Effed, and nice,” she agreed. “And it was nice—nice to feel that way again, if only for a few minutes.” She’d forgotten how much her body could feel, with a man. For a year now, she’d set all that aside and turned her physical self over to the baby’s needs, and undoubtedly for the best. Though now she’d tasted that again . . . the memory of it lingered on her tongue, deepening to a craving.

And how unfair that people’s greatest cravings so often made them sick, gave them heart disease or cancer, or left them addicted. There was a lesson in that. One she’d been needing to learn for years. She heard the baby fussing from the den and went to fetch her, setting her up in her collapsible rocker beside the table.

She eyed the clock. “Better get to work on those eggs.”